The Longbottom Tragedy
by ssnapey22
Summary: A story of connected events and characters leading to the Potters’ deaths, Voldemort’s downfall, Sirius Black’s arrest, and the cruel torture of the Longbottoms and the consequences. Set in the year before Harry and Neville are born.
1. The McKinnons Case

**Disclaimer**: With thanks to J.K. Rowling for creating the wonderful world of Harry Potter and its characters (which are not mine), and to the invaluable resources of the Harry Potter Lexicon. And thanks to my beta, SideofLight!

* * *

It is winter, 1979. With his band of _Death Eaters__, Voldemort__'s reign of terror has lasted for nearly ten years so far. In all these years_,_wizards have had precious little cause to celebrate. The Ministry's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is Bartemius Crouch._

_The Ministry of Magic has a unit of law enforcement officers known as the __Aurors__, a squad of the most accomplished trackers and criminal hunters in existence._ _The Aurors have been authorized to use drastic methods not differing greatly from the tactics used by the __Death Eaters__ they fight – to kill, if necessary.__The British Ministry is not the only group resisting the Death Eaters: the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation (consisting of a few Aurors itself) set up by __Albus Dumbledore__ to combat Lord Voldemort and his followers, plants spies among the Death Eaters and fights on a more covert level..._

* * *

She coughed as blood spluttered from her lips, her eyes drawing in and out of focus. She was in such a state of severe shock and pain that her brain did not register the excruciating pain, or the blood throbbing up her throat, but she knew well enough she was dying. Two voices screamed from the house behind her and a dog barked close by, but she didn't hear them; she could not hear anything. A man stirred beside her and rolled over to his right. For a few seconds he lay there, dazed in shock, before he heard her wheezing and struggling to gasp for breath. His hands reached out to the ground as he used all his waning strength to crawl and drag his heavy, bloody body across the harsh, freezing cold snow. Her left hand was within reach, and he grasped it gently with his left hand. A bloody tear rolled down her face, her blood-shot eyes blinking away the tears.

Three masked figures robed in black approached them silently, two of them stepping forth with slow and deliberate mercilessness and the other with an angry, menacing limp. The figures paused, standing a few inches away from the woman's fearful face. Her breathing was laboured and uneven, and a soft whistling noise came from the charred, burnt hole in her throat. The dog continued snarling loudly and ferociously from the house next door, through a small flap in the fence. It broke free and, without warning, clamped its jaws onto the leg of one of the figures. He grunted in pain and lifted his wand. The dog yelped before a sudden flash of light hit it, and a deathly silence filled the street.

She closed her eyes, her consciousness ebbing away as her lungs screamed for the oxygen that would never come. Slowly, carefully, she moved her fingers underneath her back to reach for the fallen wand. She wore a determined expression, veins popping in her face: she knew she did not have long. She strained to move her arms – movement was becoming more difficult without air to breathe – but a heavy foot crushed her hand, stomping on her wand. There was an audible snapping and crunching of bone and wood. She closed her eyes. A thick cloud of confusion descended upon her slow, dying thoughts. She felt herself falling asleep; her body becoming lighter.

"_Pathetic mudbloods,_" a male voice spoke with cold contempt. He raised a wand and pointed it at them.

"_Avarda Kedavra_!" A flash of green light blasted from his wand-tip.

The hand intertwined in hers slackened. It took several seconds before she realised that the curse had hit him.

And then she died.

-------------------------------------

In the middle of Spencer Lane at the scene, a small crowd of muggles had formed, standing metres away from the two dead figures. They pointed with horrified whispers, appalled and confused by the awful nature of the deaths. In a quiet, secluded town where nothing exciting or gossip-worthy ever happened, they had come out from their warm homes to the cold, snowy night in their pyjamas. They found themselves asking one another in hushed whispers, '_Who were those mysteriously cloaked men?_','_What was that strange light?_','_Why did they kill them?_'and, _'How did they burn that hole in that poor woman's throat?_

Ministry Obliviators were first to apparate to the scene, in order to obtain information from muggle witnesses before modifying their minds later. Shortly thereafter, Fudge apparated, along with four other Ministry wizards. One of these wizards had an air of authority about him, a middle-aged wizard named Neeson; with short, slicked brown hair. Fudge followed him hurriedly, to the group of four Obliviators talking to two of the muggles. As they walked past the muggle crowd Fudge paused, catching a quick look of the two bodies lying on the footpath, and inhaled sharply at the sight of their bodies.

_The McKinnons!_ he thought, utterly shocked. What little colour was left in his face out in the freezing cold air drained away. Their icy-blue faces and torn robes were covered with a thin layer of snow. There were patches of blood-stained snow surrounding the man's corpse. The other two wizards who had apparated with Fudge approached the bodies carefully, waving their wands over them to cover them up with a black cloth. Fudge looked up to the house, noticing the scorched and blistered paint.

'_Fudge_!' barked Neeson. Cornelius forced himself to look away, hurriedly catching up to Neeson as he pulled out a thin black book and quill. 'Write down everything.' They turned to the Obliviators.

'These are the two main witnesses, sir; muggles who saw most of what happened,' a witch spoke.

'We're not muggers!' said one of the muggles angrily.

'Of course not, dear,' the witch said sardonically. '_Ahem_…The others we've talked to said they were watching "Teevy" or asleep at the time. He says he lives on the opposite side facing the house. This …_lady_ also saw it from the house next to the McKinnons, sir.'

The witch nodded to the muggles. 'It's okay, we're listening to _anything_ and _everything_ you have to say,' she said gently. 'No matter how strange it may seem. Just try to focus and remember everything you've told us so far.'

They listened to the villagers' witness accounts of what had happened. They were confused and upset as they spoke – frequenting adding '_Please don't think that we're crazy, we know what we saw_' – as they all nodded (somewhat patronizingly). Fudge did his best to write down every word with his quill.

'– The _entire_ family?' Neeson interrupted at one point, shocked.

One of the muggles nodded, pointing up towards the charred house. 'We heard screams from inside there, and …strange flashes of light…and I heard my dog barking –' she choked a sob. The witch nodded sympathetically. 'I'm not really sure how many of them there were altogether, but three of them came out and followed the woman and the man.'

'Marlene and her father,' Neeson said in a low voice in aside to Fudge, who scribbled this down. 'Do you remember any details of the men who killed them – their height, build, _anything_ _at all_ that might help us to identify them?'

The muggles shook their heads. After a second, the male muggle inclined his head as he hesitated. 'Actually, uhhhm…one of them was kind of tall and thin. Probably about six foot three. I think he had a goatee, um…yeah, I could sort of see a beard sticking out under his mask.'

'_Six-three tall_, _male_, _thin_, _goatee_,' repeated Neeson with curled lips. 'Is that all?' Upon hearing no answer, he nodded coldly to the Obliviators, who lifted their wands. Neeson and Fudge turned to walk away, as the male muggle yelled.

'Hey man! Can't you tell us what this is about? Is this some kind of freakin' _cult_?'

Neeson ignored his question, muttering darkly, '_Muggles_.'

'_Obliviate_!'

'Fudge, go in the house and make a report of the scene,' ordered Neeson, just as two more wizards apparated onto the street. Neeson rolled his eyes. _Finally, someone from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee._

'Stephens...Jones...about bloody time!' he bristled.

'Sorry, sir –' Stephens said apologetically, '–it couldn't be helped, we just came from another job –'

'– How are we supposed to modify the memory of the muggle next door to explain why her dog is dead, if there was a mass-murder and fire next door??'

The other wizard, quickly thinking, replied, 'Well, there was no mass-murder according to them, sir,' he said meaningfully. 'We'll just tell them there was a fire that broke out and killed the sleeping family without warning. There are some synthetic muggle items which are known to quickly catch and spread fire. Let's just say there was an appliance malfunction which caused the fire.'

'We will modify the woman's memory to lead her to believe that her dog simply escaped and ran away, never to be seen again,' Stephens nodded, understanding. 'That should be some comfort to the muggle, rather than knowledge of the fact it is dead.'

Neeson glared at him. 'And what'll be of comfort to the Ministry when the Minister is told we've lost _five of the best_ on our side?!'

At their awkward hesitation, he waved impatiently towards to the Obliviators. 'Get to it, you two! Don't forget the muggle Police and Fire Brigade.'

Sensing something, he pulled a small, empty lolly wrapper out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand, muttering a few words. A tiny, curly inscription appeared, at which he nodded to himself, and tapped the wrapper again. The writing disappeared. In a blink, Neeson disapparated.

* * *

A/N: This first chapter is really a bit of backstory, but the fanfic will unfold along the way and reveal itself as a journey of connected events and characters leading to the Potters' deaths, Voldemort's downfall, Sirius Black's arrest, and the cruel torture of the Longbottoms and the consequences. 


	2. Renewed Hope

**Disclaimer**: With thanks to J.K. Rowling for creating the wonderful world of Harry Potter and its characters (which are not mine), and to the invaluable resources of the Harry Potter Lexicon, and my beta, SideofLight.

* * *

It was a cold, wet night in the small wizarding village of Hogsmeade. The rain was coming down softly as Dumbledore walked alone down a side street, around the corner from the main road. He paid no heed to lurking shadows on his left; keeping his head up as he walked and looking straight towards the street's end. His mind was deep in thought upon several matters at hand. The morale of the Order members had suffered a blow and sunken to new lows following the deaths of some of the smartest and toughest members in the recent weeks. Even after fighting vigilantly and bravely for a decade as they had, not everyone could escape death. _Caradoc Dearborn_. _Edgar Bones, killed with his wife and children_._ The McKinnon family_. Dumbledore shook his head to himself. _Of course it should not have happened_, he thought, remembering members' reactions and words at the news. He had been suspecting for some time now and was certain that there were a few moles operating within the Order, linked to the ambush and death of some of their members. Dumbledore regretted that he only had a vague idea of who the possible suspects were. After ten years in the ongoing war, there was widespread mistrust within the Order. Close family ties and friendships had been betrayed in the past, that as a result no one felt safe within the Order, and some members had refused to work with other members. Dumbledore had insisted repeatedly that only an allied side stood a stance against Voldemort's kind – that the distrust and separation of the Order would only benefit the Dark side. On another level, Albus also needed them to work together and rotate with other members, in order to deduce who was selling out their members and information from their side. _One of them is definitely linked to the Ministry, I'm certain_…

Dumbledore walked a little way down by the end of the street, where he looked up at an inn named _The Hog's Head_. Whilst the rest of Hogsmeade was a charming village of little thatched cottages and shops, _The Hog's Head_ appeared slovenly and opprobrious. The Inn's old wooden sign hung high above the entrance, depicting a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth it rested upon. Dumbledore stepped forward as he opened the door, the stale warmth of the bar bringing a little colour to his face. The barman, a grumpy-faced old man with long grey hair and a grey beard, observed the people seated at various tables; scanning the small crowd from behind the bar. The night always attracted more interesting customers than by day. The tables were filled with many obscured, hooded figures – some drinking alone, others drinking in huddled, hushed groups.

Albus nodded wordlessly to the barman with a casual familiarity, and ordered himself a drink. The barman handed him his drink, discreetly slipping a note under the glass. Dumbledore left a couple of coins on the bench as he headed for the back of the bar, to the entrance to the stairs. He walked up the stairs with his drink, pocketing the note as he pulled out a silver pocket watch and glanced at the time. It was twelve to eight. He had decided to call in on Sybill Trelawney for the job interview at the _Hog's Head_, where she had informed him she was staying (citing its "_easily affordable_" accommodation). Though he had advertised the vacant position of Divinations teachers, he held serious reservations as to the educational benefits and value in continuing the subject at all. It was one of the most imprecise branches of magic. Most of the people who had held the position in the past or applied for it were merely eccentric people with wild, misleading imagination and no gift at all, which served neither good nor bad. Albus felt it was all rather misguiding as a whole; but as he knew of Sybill's relation to a very famous and very gifted Seer in her family dating back four generations ago, he considered it common politeness in agreeing to meet with her. He was well aware of the fact true Seers were very rare amongst wizards and witches, and considered it highly unlikely she possessed such a gift. If she was even half as great as her ancestor, he would certainly accept her application.

He came up to a fork in the stairs, and taking the left flight of stairs, walked down the corridor. The dim candlelight lining the walls of the corridor flickered lowly from their wicks, glowing vaguely upon the brass numbers on the doors. _Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…ah, here we are…_

He stopped at the door marked twenty-nine (with the nine hanging at an awkward angle), and swept a hand up to knock smartly three times.

'_Who is it_?' spoke a nervous voice. Dumbledore sighed at the irony, smiling to himself. He knew he couldn't expect too much.

'It's Albus Dumbledore, Sybill,' he replied drolly. The door unlocked and opened to a young woman, her shoulders draped in layers of shawls and her eyes blinking largely from behind her thick, oversized glasses. She looked up at him in recognition.

'Oooh, yes, Dumbledore, _of course…_my Inner Eye foresaw your coming,' she spoke in a misty voice, as Albus suddenly picked up a strong, foul waft of incense coming from her room (and a faint aroma of garlic). He coughed as she gestured for him to enter; showing him to a table at the end of the room, facing the door.

'Please, come in. Thank you for taking the time to call in.' There was a faint swirl of smoke emanating from a thin, glowing stick standing upright on the table, and as Dumbledore stepped closer the foul smell grew stronger.

'Not at all,' he coughed a bit as he sat down, and then took a few sips of his drink. It calmed his irritation as he spoke again in a clearer voice, 'I trust the accommodation has been...satisfactory?'

'Well, it's _relatively_ reasonable considering how little it cost,' she sighed as the floorboard creaked, and she sat down. 'Forgive me if my incense came on a little too strongly, sir… it's to ward off the bed bugs and purge the room of evil spirits.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, peering about the room as if he were wondering where exactly the evil spirits might lurk. 'Ah, I see,' he offered in a polite voice of understanding. There was a garland of garlic hanging from a shabby, candlelit chandelier, and the walls of the room appeared moldy and old. On the wall near the closed window, a strange runic symbol had been drawn in white chalk. A rat scurried in a dark corner of the room, its little claws softly scratching the dusty floorboards.

'My dear, the thing you have been waiting for –' she spoke suddenly, as if a vision had just flashed before her eyes, '– it will happen sooner than you expected.'

He turned to face Trelawney again, mustering a genial smile. _Typically cheap and vague fortune telling, made with such generalised wording that it could be said and applied to anybody._ He was disappointed. 'Ah, I guess that saves me the time of waiting any more for it, then,' he winked. _Whatever 'it' is, anyway_...

'Now, Sybill, I am well aware of your family lineage,' he smiled kindly, nodding with respect, 'but in regard to the teaching role, I would you like you to please share with me your experience and expertise in Divination.'

Trelawney smiled with such self-assurance, drawing her arms and folding them in with her shawl. 'Well, sir, I am experienced in the areas of astrology, cartomancy, palmistry, oneiromancy, and crystal-gazing. I am also familiar with reading tea leaves. I have been practicing cartomancy and palmistry for since I was sixteen, though I was taught the art of astrology and oneiromancy at a younger age.'

'It was back then I was told I had a gift,' she whispered dramatically, 'my Inner Eye. With it, I have channeled spirits from the great beyond, and I have seen the past and the future. I have foretold people's fortunes and fates, interpreted their dreams and helped them make important decisions and when to make them, according to the alignment of stars and planets...'

Dumbledore looked uncertainly at her and opened his mouth to speak; but Trelawney, misinterpreting his look, gabbed on with gusto, 'I realise most of my experience isn't entirely recent - the business hasn't been going too well for a few years now. No one wants to hear of bad news, you see, and there has been little good news to be divined. But I can assure you I am still very much attuned to the resonances of the future as ever.'

'I believe I have a good deal of experience to teach students how to expand their mind, body and spirit to be more aware and open to the metaphysical and astral plane. I can teach them the traditional divination methods – crystal-gazing, palmistry, astrology – and also how to correctly interpret the stars and planets, and learning all the omens by sight. However, I must warn you that there is only so far I can teach – if a student does not have the gift of the Sight, there is very little I can work with. Even with other means of divination, it is only the priveged few, like myself, who truly See.'

Dumbledore peered at Trelawney questioningly, from above his half-moon spectacles.

'I would like for you to explain what it is exactly that you can bring to this role that would enrich the students' education at Hogwarts?'

Trelawney looked affronted. 'Sir? I believe I just told you.'

Dumbledore replied with a dubious expression, 'Sybill, I expect more. It is expected that any successful Hogwarts applicant to offer students invaluable knowledge and expertise of their area. Divinations, also, as the subject being taught, is a rather vague and loose form of magic to be taught at all. We teach at Hogwarts to provide each and every student with essential wizarding knowledge and to nurture their talents and skills; so when they leave school they are fully prepared as wizards and witches in our world. Surely you're well aware of the fact that the Ministry of Magic has been hiring some young students fresh out of graduation – and even those who are no longer attending and have turned of age – to serve the cause against Voldemort-' (Trelawney gasped in horror at the name) '– as we have lost so many lives.' Dumbledore paused sadly, his eyes far off for a second as he silently reflected upon some of his past students. He looked back at Trelawney somberly.

'As Headmaster I feel, even more than ever, the great responsibility of teachers to ensure there is a high level of excellence in the standards of education taught at Hogwarts to every student. I strongly encourage the education of all branches of magic that give students skills that they can use and apply in the wizarding world. I have little belief that continuing Divinations will benefit students in their education for life…'

Dumbledore stood up and bowed. 'Sybill, thankyou for your time. I regret to inform you that I do not think you are suitable for the post. Good night.' Trelawney looked scandalized; a hand at her throat as she gaped wordlessly, struck dumb by the rejection. Dumbledore turned to leave; when a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.

'_The one with power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_...'

Albus's eyes widened as he turned back around to face Trelawney. She sat rigid in her chair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagged.

'Sybill?' he asked, but Trelawney continued without hearing him. There was sudden noise of scuffling feet and voices just outside the door.

'…_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies_…_'_

A gruff voice from outside growled, '_You have no business here_!' and without warning, the door flew open with a loud bang. Trelawney snapped out of her trance-like state, looking startled at the noise as she turned to look. Dumbledore's eyes were wide as he stood there, highly alert, his wand pointing at the doorway. A young man was kneeling on the floor with the old barman standing behind him; the scruff of his robes held tightly in the barman's fist. It was obvious at a glance what the young man had been caught doing; his hand frozen in the air where the doorknob had been. _How long he has been there?_ The barman roughly wrenched the collar in his hand upwards, forcing the young man to his feet as he stumbled forwards. Dumbledore gazed at young man with lank, greasy hair standing with the barman; recognizing the former student. _Severus Snape_. He lowered his wand. The young man looked fearfully at Dumbledore, avoiding his eyes.

'My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt,' he spoke smoothly, his voice not betraying the nervousness evident in his fidgeting. 'I – I am afraid I seem to have… come up the wrong way up the stairs…then I fell down… must've taken the wrong stairs...'

The barman looked at Dumbledore, who nodded slightly. He took hold of Snape's robes at the shoulders and pushed him away forcefully, marching him back down the stairs. Dumbledore stepped towards the door, checking outside to make sure they were alone again. He shut the door and waved his wand over the door as it locked.

'Sybill?' he looked back at the table, where she was steadying herself with her hands on the table.

'Forgive me, sir…I'm just feeling a little light-headed. I guess I haven't eaten much today. Don't worry about me,' she said, waving him off as she expected him to leave.

'Please continue,' Dumbledore said, looking serious as he sat back in his chair.

'I'm sorry…continue what?' she frowned as she looked at him in the chair with a hurt and confused expression. 'You just told me you didn't want me teaching Divinations…that I'm not _suitable_ for the role!'

Dumbledore gazed back at her curiously, calculating the look of innocent confusion in her eyes. He knotted his fingers together as he sat there quietly with a thoughtful expression, thinking.

'Sybill,' he spoke at last. 'I believe I may have been a little hasty in overlooking your…_talent_. Upon second consideration –'

He stopped as Trelawney's eyes rolled inwards, the whites of her eyes showing as her mouth went slack. Her shoulders were firmly hunched; her eyes rolled back out appearing unfocused and her head bowed slightly.

'–_Sybill_?'

'_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal_,' she spoke again in a harsh voice, '_but he will have power the dark lord knows not_…'

Dumbledore leaned in closer to Trelawney at the table, the light from the chandelier glowing brighter on his face as he moved forward. A glimmer of fresh hope twinkled in his eyes as he listened intently.

'_And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live whilst the other survives.._' Trelawney's head fell forwards onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again.

'Oh, I dozed off again,' she yawned, covering her mouth as she saw his attentive look. 'Please do forgive me for being rude. I've been feeling quite odd today..' she rattled on, wrapping her shawls tighter around her shoulders. Dumbledore breathed a little quickly, the ramifications of the prophecy and its possible meaning suddenly becoming apparent to him. _Mark him as his equal…_

He knew well that this was not some last-effort attempt by Trelawney to pounce upon the job offer, as much as she clearly needed a more reliable source of income. Earlier he had seen in her eyes her genuine lack of consciousness – the double irony that she was not aware of her true gift, as much as she appeared to be a fraud and insisted she was gifted, brought a smile to his lips.

'You have the job. Effective immediately.'

'Sir!' she exclaimed with breathless exhilaration; stunned. 'Thankyou! Thankyou, Dumbledore! I felt sure that you would accept me; indeed I had consulted the crystal the other day and foresaw myself teaching young ones...'

'Interesting,' he smiled in amusement, his eyes twinkling. _She seems fairly stunned for one expecting acceptance_, he observed. He took his thoughts back to the prophecy and knew this was now a matter of utmost importance to attend to. _Born as the seventh month dies…_He needed to move swiftly, the end of July was a little more than two months away...

* * *

A/N: Reviews please! 


End file.
